Chapter 9
Sam
I deflate. “Johnny?” I ask, his name coming out shaky. “You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here? I was coming home from work.” He gestures to me. “What the fuck are you doing out here?”
My relief is quickly replaced with worry.
“It’s two o’clock in the fucking morning,” he spits.
“I—”
How do I explain this?
“Are you okay?” He looks around. “Are you alone?”
I stare back at him, fidgeting with my hands.
“Did someone hurt you?”
I shake my head.
Concern flashes across his face, and he leans over to open the passenger door. “Just come on. Get off the street.”
I take a step forward but hesitate, glancing at the open door.
“Jesus, Sam,” he sighs. “Get in the car.”
“You’re mad,” I whisper.
“Of course I’m mad,” he snaps. “I just found you walking down the street alone in the middle of the night. If someone else found you out here …” He grinds his teeth. “What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t,” I mutter.
“Clearly.” He motions to the passenger seat. “I’m not going to ask you again. Get in the car.”
I drop my gaze to the ground and slide into the seat.
He turns toward me, taking me in. “You’re shaking,” he says, his tone softer now.
“When I saw the headlights …” I wrap my arms around myself. “I thought … I didn’t …”
“Did something happen tonight?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“I don’t understand.” He blows out a breath. “You gotta start making this make sense.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumble.
“It’s okay,” he pushes out. “But you need to tell me what’s going on.”
“I just couldn’t …” My voice cracks.
“You just couldn’t what?”
“Take it. I couldn’t take it anymore. Being in that house. Being alone. I’m always fucking alone.” I grip my hands, trying to make them stop shaking. “Johnny? Do you have a cigarette?”
He tears his pained eyes from me and grabs a pack from the center console, handing me one. I place it between my lips, and he lights it.
I inhale, letting it calm me. “Sometimes, I just feel so trapped, you know?”
He nods.
“Dad’s been … well, you know how he is.” I exhale a cloud of smoke. “I can’t go anywhere. Do anything. He’s always keeping tabs on me. Carson is, too.”
Johnny’s expression darkens at the mention of Carson. They’ve never gotten along.
“What can I do?” he asks. “How can I make it better?”
“You’re always gone,” I say before quickly adding, “And I’m grateful for all you do for us, really. It’s just—”
“I get it,” he interrupts. Leaning into his seat, he tilts his head back, thinking. “Maybe I could bring you to the garage with me during the day.”
“I thought—”
“Would that be better?” he cuts in again, silencing my protest. “If you could come with me?”
I exhale a cloud of smoke. “Yeah, but I don’t want to make trouble for you.”
“You won’t.”
“What about Dad?”
“What about him?”
“You think he’ll let me go?”
He’s quiet for a minute. “I’ll say you’re helping out, working the front desk. He won’t care what you do if you’re getting paid.”
My eyes widen. “You think they’ll actually give me a job?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll ask. Even if they don’t, it’s not like he’s gonna show up there.”
“But then I won’t be making any money.”
We both know if I say I’m bringing money home, our father will want to see it. Will likely take it.
“I’ll give you some if I have to.” He levels me with a serious look. “We’ll sort out the details. The only thing that matters is that you don’t feel”—I watch his eyes flit to the street—“like this anymore. That you don’t put yourself in a situation like this again.”
I dip my chin. “I won’t.”
“Why didn’t you just come to me if you were this upset?”
“I didn’t want to be another thing you had to deal with.”
He pulls his head back. “You’re not something I have to deal with,” he says, like the idea is ridiculous. “You’re my sister. I’ll always be here for you.”
I clear my throat. “I know.”
He stares back at me. “No, I don’t think you do.” He leans forward. “You’re not a burden. You’re not something I have to deal with. And you sure as fuck are not alone. You understand me?”
“Yes,” I answer, my voice just above a whisper.
“Good.” Pointing to the street, he adds, “And don’t you ever let me find you out here at night again.”
“You won’t.”
He nods then throws the car into drive and peels away from the curb.
“Thank you,” I tell him, pulling my knees up to my chest. “For picking me up and … and for everything you said.”
“Of course,” he answers. “Tomorrow will be better.”
He says it with such certainty that I actually believe him.